


Not Our Last Night

by felandaris



Series: Another Place And Time [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Blindfolds, Cunnilingus, Domistair!, F/M, Feels, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Dom/sub, Nipple Play, Please Don't Hate Me, Tenderness, his tender beginnings, night before battle, toe sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/pseuds/felandaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ritual refused, an Archdemon to slay and each other to hold on to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Our Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Implied character death as per canon.  
> AO3's Rich Text editor keeps pulling words together (lookskindalikethis). Sorry if it looks strange- not my doing!  
> Thank you to Eravalefantasy for the beta <3  
> [Read on Tumblr ](http://cullenstairshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/132199110478/not-our-last-night-nsfw)

A cosy half-dark engulfed them as the bed’s drapes were pulled closed, offering pleasant respite from the estate’s many bright lights. Elissa sank into the mattress, allowing her aching limbs to relax and stretch out for the first time in far too long. The comfort of linens and pillows had become a distant luxury after countless nights spent on thin bedrolls in tatty tents.

 

If nothing else she would at least attempt for a decent night’s rest ahead of tomorrow’s events, the sheer magnitude of which still brought on a shudder.

 

Alistair sensed her resurfacing concern, stroking her hair as he lay on his flank beside her.

 

“Don’t worry,” he repeated for the fifth or sixth time that night, “neither of us is going to die tomorrow.”

 

Elissa’s smile was almost sympathetic as she leant sideways to plant butterfly pecks on the fingers playing with her tresses.

 

She flinched in surprise when Alistair shook his head and sat up, a hurt frown clouding his tired features.

 

“I mean it. We will _not die_.” Instead of that whimsical sing-song his voice held a steady cadence as he stressed each syllable, his stare of stern copper full of determination.

 

Elissa’s mouth opened, but he wasn’t finished.

 

“Riordan will strike the final blow in our stead. And if not there’ll be another way. We don’t need blood magic, and we don’t have to rely on luck. We’ve got ourselves, our own wits, and that’s been more than enough to bring us this far.” His tone softened. “ _We’ll make it_.”

 

Alistair leaned in now, taking her much smaller hands in his. “We'll be together.” His lips grazed her knuckles. “Rule together.” A kiss on her neck. “Have children together.” Elissa’s brow knit involuntarily at his mention of the dream so dear to her yet so far out of reach. When he began rubbing her belly she mustered a weak smile, averting her eyes only to wince when he spoke again.

 

“Do you _hear_ me?”

 

Then it struck her. Alistair wasn’t just trying to convince himself along with her. He really did believe what he was saying, with all his heart.

 

His words carried the same vigour as when he'd sent the witch away mere hours ago, hours that now felt like days.

 

He may have been facing her in the privacy of their bed, clad in his night clothes. Yet his posture, glance and tone carried the conviction of a true leader. In this instant more than ever she understood how much this man, _her man_ _,_ was what Ferelden needed.

 

Alistair’s gaze met hers when he settled over her, evoking a gasp as he pinned her wrists above their heads.

 

“I want you to memorise me. Not just in your head but with your skin, your mouth.  When you walk onto that battlefield tomorrow I want all of your body to remember, to know why we're doing this.”

 

His eyes bore into hers now as he hovered, searching for a sign of agreement, of understanding.

 

“And why we _will_ survive.” Proud courage was evolving into an energy of a more intimate, sexual nature. A flush crept up her cheeks as his weight lingered above her, his warmth sowing tender buds of desire despite all fatigue.

 

Alistair’s grasp on her wrists hardened. The passionate fervour in his look faded into something raw, salacious, highlighting flecks of green amid softening hazel.

 

Never looking elsewhere, Alistair kept his grip, his other hand rummaging between the pillows beside her.

 

Playful green deepened into bold emerald when he produced an object.

 

_A scarf. Long, thin, of a dark blue with a heraldic crest embroidered in its middle._

 

Elissa’s eyes widened, and a hiss accompanied the throb at her centre- the kind only he had ever, would ever evoke. She nodded _yes_ , her rapidly increasing heartbeat rising into her ears, drowning out sound before he even asked.

 

Alistair grinned, letting go of her hands and pressing a kiss to Elissa’s forehead before he placed the blindfold over her face.

 

She sighed as silken cool covered tired eyes then gasped when the material was pulled tight, leaving her in complete dark.

 

At once Elissa’s other senses sprung to alertness. Her skin prickled with goose bumps, as if _reaching_ for him. Fragrances of fabric, wood and man tickled her nostrils. Each breath and every rustle suddenly had its own melody.

 

“Elissa.” Alistair’s words held all the tenderness in the world as his fingertips trailed across her cheek, sending a sequence of shivers down her side. Leaning into his touch, she smiled a tiny kiss against his palm.

 

She _wanted_ to believe, to quell that last fraction of doubt lurking deep in her stomach. She _wanted_ to share his confidence that somehow they would walk out of this alive, hand in hand. She desperately craved his conviction, the ability to shut out the nagging scepticism.

 

So she stopped thinking and felt instead.

 

A stretch of her arms lengthened her body into relaxation, and a deep inhale soaked up his musk, his lust. She hummed when he filled her senses.

 

Her arms were first; veins, scars, hairs being traced, previously unnoticed nerve endings roused to attention.

 

The ghost-like brush of his lips and his teeth’s light nibble sent a bolt of want surging through her. It cumulated in a mewl and a rush of moist warmth pooling between her legs. Alistair’s chuckle tickled against her before he continued his journey.

 

 

Elissa never knew that her pulse point, the veins in her neck, _the outline of her collarbones_ could be touched, could be _felt_ with such intensity.

 

Sudden, harsh sensations of fabric ripping, of buttons flying had her moaning, pressing upwards for more. Alistair ripping her shirt – _no, his_ -, that harsher side to him, stoked her arousal like little else.

 

Then stillness ensued, endless second of waiting, craving. Already she was a wanton mess, and he hadn’t even…

 

“ _Oh!_ ”

 

Alistair’s hand, lips, _teeth_ had found her chest. All Elissa could do was writhe and squirm under him as he devoured what he so enjoyed. Usually she’d delight in in watching him nurse and nibble. Now, the lack of vision made his caresses stronger, deeper and devastatingly vivid.

 

She consciously felt each miniscule pebble in her areolae thickening, every bit her nipples swelled by. Even his hips grinding into the mattress resonated with her, almost as if part of her body.

 

Elissa reached to cradle his head to her, but immediately her wrists were pinned back down. Alistair’s swift movement made her torso arch up, shoving her breasts right into his face.

 

Her bosom was his treat, his precious toy. But tonight there were no names, no impish cross-talk- only ardour and lustful reverie.

 

When he’d stroked and suckled her breasts into taut handfuls, pulled her peaks long and stiff, Alistair traversed further south. He grazed her ribs and sides before his heated face came to rest over her womb. At this moment, she was reduced to her most primitive sensibilities. No thoughts of the Taint, of their shared curse could spoil the excitement his touch sparked, her longing to create a new life together.

 

Elissa’s heart beat faster the closer he got to where she was wet for him. When he skipped past, he laughed quietly at her frustrated huff.

 

Down her legs he went, finding new, sensitive spots on her thighs, behind her knees.

 

Reaching her feet, blunt nails scraped up her soles before he tended to her toes. One by one the squat digits disappeared into his mouth, his sucks a wicked allusion to what she really craved from him.

 

When he’d finished with her toes Alistair’s stare _burned_ into her, tracing his path back up her legs. He stopped, and his ragged breath on her centre had her quivering, whimpering. A minute passed, maybe two- a whole eternity of her lying needy under his scrutiny.

 

Elissa’s shocked cry echoed across the room when he descended on her at last. Had she been sensitive before, she was now buzzing with sensation. Alistair’s tongue, fingers, his _nose_ were all over her- on her labia, her slit, her pearl. The smallest lap, the briefest dip inside pulsed through her.Even the sounds he made, those wet slurps and smacks of eager lips, teased her further.

 

Elissa wasn’t sure how long they spent like this. She couldn’t tell whether it was the tug on her swollen nub, the pump of thick digits inside her or his own little _ah_ s as he feasted on her. All she knew was that a final caress sent her over the edge. It started with a twitch of her nub that released a flood of liquid heat. She clutched at the sheets, howling some version of Alistair’s name as pleasure took its hold, melting her into a quivering, boneless mess.

 

When she came to, her mouth was claimed in a sloppy, tangy kiss. Through lingering bliss rose the ache for more.

 

The blindfold came off, and Elissa blinked. Her first sight was Alistair, naked and flushed as she, his solemn gaze seeking hers. Emotion weighed heavy in his raspy voice as he reached between them.

 

“This won’t be our last night,” he croaked, slowly shaking his head while sinking inside her, “it’ll be our first.” For a second his eyes fell shut, and he hissed as he bit his lip at the feel of her. His hips withdrew only to push back in, gently, languidly. “Our anniversary every year.”

 

Elissa’s mouth fell open in a silent cry as he filled her, strength and girth. Unable to remain still any longer, her hands sought him out, roaming across his back; stroking hairs, moles, scars, whatever they could grasp.

 

Pushing up to meet his every thrust, she wanted to _mould_ her body to his. Imprint her skin, bones, laughter, despair and love on him.

 

“Every year,” he repeated between heavy breaths, his head falling to the crook of her neck as his pace picked up, his hand wandering once more.

 

Alistair watched her face, studying each reaction to his touch on her bundle that he’d perfected over the months. Elissa didn’t think she had any more tears in her but the urgency of his stare coaxed a single droplet out of her. A shaky thumb brushed it off her cheek.

 

His thrusts came harder, the flicks at her pearl more insistent. Soon that flutter rose in her again, building into an almighty coil as another peak shook her.

 

Elissa’s whole body gripped him, and Alistair could no longer hold back his own end. His voice broke in a strangled moan as he gave her his seed that no other woman was to have.

 

Together they floated as the world drowned out. War, death and peril ceased to exist for a cherished few moments.

 

He remained inside her for some time, only rolling to lie beside her when fatigue caught up with them.

 

Weak and happy, they needed no words, just each other’s warmth.

 

Sleep claimed Elissa as she held on to Alistair, and to the hope that this wasn't farewell but a new beginning.

 

__________________________

 

King Alistair turns the dusty scarf in his hands once more. The faded Theirin heraldry and its once-vivid blue seem to laugh at him, as they have ever since that night exactly five years ago.

 

 

“And many happy returns,” he says to no one. The bitter words ring hollow in the vast room that feels all the emptier tonight.

 

He places the scarf in his nightstand, blows out the last candle and turns around in his lonely bed.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If this was hard to read, please know that particularly the ending hurt to write. The good thing is that it makes for a fitting prelude to [Diplomatic Ties](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3225017/chapters/7021139) and the subsequent OT3 stories where a lonely King Alistair finds warmth once more in not one but two pairs of arms. 
> 
> This also was a tender first hint at Domistair, a side to His Highness we may well see more of soon- will it be with the Herald or her Commander… or both? 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! <3


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